The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the neatly manicured lawn as Stella confronted Theo. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now narrowed slits, blazing with a fierce intensity that made Theo instinctively raise his hands in a gesture of appeasement.
He shuffled back a step, his usual confident swagger replaced by an uneasy tremor. “I just… I just wanted to see you,” he stammered, his voice a thin thread against the backdrop of chirping crickets.
Stella’s arms were crossed tightly across her chest, her posture rigid with defiance. “Stay there,” she commanded, her voice sharp and unwavering.
Theo, undeterred, took another tentative step forward. “But… can’t I at least give you a hug?” he pleaded, his voice laced with a desperate hope that clashed jarringly with his earlier bravado.
Stella shook her head, a mixture of disbelief and disgust etched onto her face. “Can you even hear yourself?” she retorted, her sarcasm dripping like venom.
The words were a carefully aimed dart, hitting their mark with precision.
Theo’s face fell, the smirk dissolving into a look of confusion. “What’s wrong with that? It’s just a hug,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Suddenly, Elder Remus emerged from the house, his face a mask of grim determination. The sight of his daughter locked in a tense standoff with Theo ignited a spark of fury within him. “I told you to stay away from my daughter, Theo!” he roared, his voice booming across the yard.
Theo turned, his eyes meeting Elder Remus’s with a mixture of defiance and apprehension. A smirk, arrogant and self-assured, reappeared on his lips. “I miss your daughter, Elder Remus,” he said, his tone dripping with a condescending sweetness that only amplified his audacity.
Elder Remus’s jaw tightened. “Do you think this is some kind of game?” he thundered, his voice thick with barely controlled rage. “This isn’t fun, Theo.”
“Mark my words, I will be back. And I will claim what is rightfully mine.” Theo’s words hung in the air, a stark warning.
Stella watched silently as Theo turned and walked away, his swagger returned, though it felt brittle and forced.
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotions.
Flora, her face a picture of shocked disbelief, shook her head slowly. “He actually had the nerve to come here,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
Little Bryce, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, tugged at his mother’s skirt. “What’s happening, Mommy?” he asked, his innocent question a jarring contrast to the drama unfolding before him.
Stella knelt, pulling her son close, her voice soft as she brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “Nothing, honey,” she murmured, her voice betraying none of the turmoil raging within.
The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of Elder Remus’s living room, illuminating dust motes dancing in the golden light as he helped Stella carry her numerous suitcases inside. The sheer volume of luggage was impressive; a testament to Stella’s recent shopping spree.
“My goodness, you bought a lot of things,” Elder Remus chuckled, his voice a low rumble, as they finally wrestled the last oversized bag into place.
Stella smiled, a touch of exhaustion softening her features. “Indeed, I did,” she replied, handing her father a tall glass of iced water, the condensation clinging to the glass like tiny diamonds.
They were settling into the comfortable, slightly worn furniture of the living room when Daisha and Darrel arrived, their entrance heralded by a cheerful burst of laughter.
Daisha’s eyes widened in surprise as she saw her sister. “Stella! I didn’t expect to find you here!” she exclaimed, her voice bright and enthusiastic. Her gaze then shifted to Bryce, who was engrossed in building a tower of blocks. “Good afternoon, handsome!” she chirped, her tone playful and affectionate as she addressed the young boy.
Stella returned her sister’s greeting, a warmth blooming in her heart despite the underlying tension of the situation. “Are you heading back to your place?” she asked, her voice laced with a hint of wistful sadness.
Daisha nodded, a slight shadow crossing her usually sunny disposition. “Yep,” she replied, her gaze drifting to Darrel, who stood patiently by the door. “Darrel has a mountain of paperwork waiting for him.” She winked conspiratorially at Stella, a shared understanding passing between the sisters.
“So, it’s goodbye for now, then,” Stella said softly, a bittersweet note in her voice.
Daisha shook her head, her smile reassuring. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be visiting often,” she teased, her eyes twinkling.
Stella rolled her eyes playfully, a genuine smile breaking through her earlier melancholy. “Oh, I’m sure you will,” she retorted, her tone light and affectionate. She glanced at Bryce, who was now engaged in a lively game of peek-a-boo with Flora.
“Bryce, honey, Aunt Daisha and Darrel are leaving now,” Stella announced gently.
Bryce looked up, his face a mixture of surprise and disappointment. “When can I see you again, Aunt Daisha?” he asked, his voice filled with a child’s innocent longing.
Daisha’s heart melted at his question. “Oh, maybe next week, sweetie,” she replied, her voice warm and reassuring.
“Really?” Bryce questioned, his eyes wide with hope.
“Really, I promise!” Daisha confirmed, scooping him into a warm, loving hug.
Pulling away, Daisha turned her attention to her father. “Dad,” she began, her voice softening, “you should think carefully before making any rush decisions.” Elder Remus nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and concern.
“I will, my dear,” he replied, embracing his eldest daughter in a long, heartfelt hug.
Before leaving, Daisha paused, turning to Flora with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Flora,” she said, her voice sincere and appreciative.
Then, with a final wave, Daisha and Darrel departed, leaving behind a quiet, yet strangely comforting, stillness in the wake of their departure.
“We’re going now,” Darrel announced, his voice a low murmur that barely disturbed the quiet afternoon.
Stella offered a small, almost imperceptible nod in response, her gaze lingering on her sister one last time.
Daisha, radiating a vibrant energy that seemed to fill the hallway, stepped out the front door, Darrel close behind. “Bye, guys!” she called out, her voice echoing slightly in the stillness that followed their departure, a wave of her hand a final farewell.
The click of the closing door punctuated the silence, leaving a void in the air.
Flora turned to Stella, her own goodbyes tinged with a quiet warmth. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said, her voice soft but firm.
Stella, sensing Flora’s unwavering concern, attempted to reassure her. “You can rest, Flora. I’m perfectly fine,” she offered, a gentle smile gracing her lips.
But Flora shook her head, her expression resolute. “No, I’ll visit you tomorrow,” she insisted, the conversation ending with a simple, unspoken agreement.
Flora’s departure was followed by the arrival of Tyros, his presence a silent counterpoint to the outgoing energy. The quiet rustle of his footsteps was barely audible as he collected Flora.
“They’re gone now, Mommy,” Bryce announced, his voice bright and unconcerned, his attention already focused on his toys scattered across the floor.
Stella smiled, a wave of relief washing over her. “But I’m still here,” she replied, her voice soft and reassuring, joining her son in his playful world. She knelt beside him, picking up a brightly colored building block and engaging him in a game of imaginative construction.
The quiet contentment was broken by Elder Remus’s announcement. “I’m going to hire a maid for Bryce,” he stated, his voice carrying a tone of decisive finality.
Stella looked up, her brow furrowing slightly in question. “Why?” she asked, her tone curious rather than challenging.
“So you can focus on your work,” her father replied, his explanation simple and direct.
Stella considered this for a moment, the logic undeniable. “That’s fine,” she conceded, “but I’d like to meet her first.” Her request, though seemingly minor, revealed a protective instinct towards both her son and her own sense of control.
A couple of days later, the familiar rhythm of Stella’s life resumed. She found herself back at the cafe, the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baking pastries filling the air. The relentless activity served as a welcome distraction, a shield against the emotional turmoil of her recent past.
As she prepared for her shift, the quiet rhythm of the cafe was interrupted by Bryce’s entrance. “Can I go play with Uncle Brandon, Mommy?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Stella, caught in the whirlwind of pre-opening preparations, glanced at her son, her expression softening. She nodded her assent. “Just tell him to come get you,” she instructed, her voice gentle but firm.
Bryce grabbed his mother’s phone and, with a few deft taps, contacted Brandon, his small fingers surprisingly adept at navigating the digital world.
~~~
Brandon was immersed in the quiet intensity of his work, the hum of the office, a low thrum beneath the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his keyboard. His concentration, however, was shattered by the insistent trill of his phone. He glanced at the screen, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as he saw Stella’s name displayed.
Stella? What could she possibly want?
He frowned, a question mark forming in his mind. “Why is she calling me?” he muttered to himself, a low rumble of curiosity. He answered the call, his finger hovering over the end button just in case.
“Hello?” he answered, his voice cautious, anticipating the unknown.
A small, excited voice chirped from the other end, instantly dispelling any lingering apprehension. “Uncle Brandon!” The sound of Bryce’s voice was like a burst of sunshine, instantly brightening Brandon’s day.
A genuine smile spread across his face.
“Hey, young man!” Brandon replied, his tone warm and playful, a stark contrast to the seriousness of his earlier work. He leaned back in his chair, anticipation hanging in the air.
“Can we play?” Bryce’s question was direct, his eagerness unmistakable.
Brandon glanced at his desk, laden with a mountain of unfinished work. The papers and files seemed to loom before him, a stark reminder of his responsibilities. “Of course, buddy! I’ll come get you. But did you ask your Mommy about this?” He asked, his voice carefully balancing his enthusiasm with a necessary dose of responsibility. He paused, catching the faint sound of Stella’s voice in the background.
“Yep, and she said yes!” Bryce’s enthusiastic confirmation was music to Brandon’s ears.
He smiled again, this time a broader, more relaxed smile, the weight of his unfinished work momentarily forgotten.
The prospect of playing with Bryce, the pure joy in the child’s voice, was a welcome antidote to the pressures of his workday.
Just as Brandon was picturing his upcoming playtime with Bryce, a shadow fell across his desk.
Tyros, his expression inquisitive, stood silently in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Brandon’s animated face. “Who are you talking-” He began, his voice curious, his words cut short by a swift, unexpected action.
Brandon, his smile vanishing instantly, reacted with surprising speed. He reacted instinctively, his hand shooting out to cover Tyros’ mouth, silencing him mid-sentence.
The sudden gesture was both protective and secretive, instantly transforming the atmosphere from casual to tense. The playful tone of the previous moments was replaced by a sudden, heavy silence.
“Okay, wait for me!” Brandon said, his voice firm and reassuring, before ending the call.
The abruptness of the disconnect was a stark contrast to the playful tone of his conversation with Bryce. He felt a surge of excitement, the prospect of seeing the boy outweighing the pressure of his unfinished work.
Tyros, however, was not as easily distracted. He had witnessed the entire exchange, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected call and Brandon’s subsequent change of demeanor. “Who was that?” he asked, his voice sharp and direct, his eyes narrowed in inquiry.
Brandon, already gathering his belongings, barely paused in his task. “Bryce,” he replied, his tone brisk, his focus entirely on preparing to leave.
“Where are you going? We need to finish our work today!” Tyros protested, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. The urgency in his tone was clear, a reflection of his dedication to their shared workload.
But Brandon, caught up in the excitement of his impending playtime, seemed oblivious to Tyros’ concerns. He ignored Tyros’ words, his movements efficient and purposeful as he gathered his bag and headed for the door.
Tyros, however, was not one to be easily dismissed. He followed Brandon into the hallway, his persistence unwavering. “I’m still talking to you!” he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet corridor.
Brandon, sensing Tyros’ determination, turned his face a mask of controlled annoyance. “If you keep following me, I’ll break one of your legs,” he threatened, his voice low and menacing, a clear warning meant to deter his persistent colleague.
Tyros, understanding the seriousness of the threat, immediately stopped in his tracks. “Fine!” He conceded, his voice subdued, his earlier frustration replaced by a grudging acceptance of defeat. He remained in the hallway, watching as Brandon disappeared down the corridor, leaving him alone with the unfinished work and the unanswered questions.
~~~
Meanwhile, in the living room, Stella waited patiently, her gaze constantly returning to Bryce, who was busy constructing a magnificent tower of blocks. She couldn’t bear to leave him alone, the thought of a stranger, even a hired maid, unsettling her. She had firmly rejected her father’s suggestion, her protective instincts overriding any practical considerations.
Suddenly, Bryce’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Mom, do I look good?” he asked, his tone brimming with a child’s inherent confidence.
Stella smiled, a wave of warmth washing over her. “You always look good, my love,” she replied, leaning down to kiss his cheek, the simple gesture a testament to the deep bond between mother and son.
A sleek, dark-colored car pulled smoothly to a stop in front of Stella’s house, its arrival a welcome interruption to the quiet of the afternoon.
Stella, her hand firmly clasped in Bryce’s, felt a surge of relief. “Let’s go, he’s here!” she announced, her voice bright with a hint of underlying tension, her gaze fixed on the approaching car.
Mother and son headed towards the main door, their steps quickening with anticipation.
As soon as Brandon emerged from his car, his face creased with a mixture of apology and frustration, he explained the reason for his delay. “I got stuck in traffic,” he said, his voice laced with a touch of self-deprecation.
Stella, however, waved away his concerns with a reassuring smile. “It’s fine,” she replied, her tone calm and understanding. She efficiently opened the passenger door of Brandon’s car, carefully placing Bryce’s small backpack inside.
Then, turning to her son, she offered a gentle command. “Be a good boy, okay?” she said, her voice soft but firm, bending down to kiss his forehead.
Bryce, his face beaming, responded with a heartfelt hug. “I will, Mommy!” he promised, his voice muffled against her comforting embrace.
“Okay, get inside,” Stella instructed, holding the car door open for him.
Bryce, already eager for his playtime, scrambled into the car, his small body disappearing into the plush interior.
Stella closed the door gently, her gaze lingering on her son for a moment before turning her attention to Brandon. “I’ll wire you the money later,” she said, her tone businesslike, her words cutting through the lingering warmth of their earlier interaction.
Brandon, momentarily caught off guard, looked at her with a puzzled expression. “For what?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine confusion.
Stella, however, didn’t elaborate, her focus already shifting away from the financial details. “Just give me your account number,” she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument, before turning and walking away, her steps brisk and purposeful.
Stella slid into her own car, casting one last glance at Brandon before starting the engine.
The car pulled away smoothly, leaving Brandon standing alone, his mind still grappling with the unanswered question of the payment.
Stella, meanwhile, arrived at her cafe, the familiar scent of coffee and pastries filling the air.
As she parked her car, one of her staff members greeted her with a cheerful “Good morning!”
Stella returned the greeting with a warm smile, the stresses of the morning fading away under the welcoming atmosphere of her workplace. The day had begun, its challenges and rewards yet to unfold.
The cafe buzzed with the midday rush, a symphony of clinking cups, the whir of the espresso machine, and the cheerful chatter of customers.
Stella, sleeves rolled up, worked tirelessly in the kitchen, assisting her crew with the relentless flow of orders.
The air was thick with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baking pastries, a comforting scent that belied the frenetic energy of the kitchen.
Suddenly, a staff member burst into the kitchen, their face a mixture of urgency and apprehension. “Ma’am, someone’s looking for the manager!” the staff member announced, their voice breathless, their words tumbling over each other in their haste.
Stella responded calmly. “Okay,” she said, her voice steady and reassuring. “Lead the way, and I’ll speak with them.” She wiped her hands on her apron, leaving the chaotic energy of the kitchen behind, her steps purposeful as she followed her staff member out.
They navigated the crowded cafe, dodging tables and weaving through the throng of customers, until they reached a table where a man sat alone, his gaze fixed on something beyond the bustling cafe.
Stella approached, her demeanor professional and welcoming. “Hi, sir! I’m the-” she began, her introduction cut short as the man turned, his face instantly recognizable.
The sight of Theo stopped Stella mid-sentence, a wave of surprise washing over her. She quickly dismissed her staff member. “You can leave us,” she instructed, her voice calm but firm.
“Okay, ma’am,” the staff member replied, quietly retreating, leaving Stella alone with the unexpected visitor.
Theo, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and something else-perhaps mischief?- surveyed the cafe with a knowing smile. “You take your business seriously, huh?” he observed, his tone light, his gaze sweeping across the busy scene.
Stella took a deep breath, composing herself, her initial surprise giving way to a professional composure. She offered a polite smile, her expression carefully neutral. “What’s the problem, sir?” she asked, her voice even and polite, her tone betraying none of the inner turmoil his unexpected appearance had stirred.
Theo leaned forward, his eyes meeting hers. “Can you keep me company while I eat?” he asked, his request audacious, his tone a mixture of playful challenge and earnest plea.
Stella couldn’t help but smirk, a hint of amusement playing on her lips. “That’s not included in my job description, sir,” she replied, her voice laced with a touch of dry humor.
Theo chuckled, his smile widening. “Yeah, I know,” he conceded, his eyes twinkling. “But this is a special request from your… mate.” His words hung in the air, the unspoken implication heavy with meaning, leaving Stella to ponder the true nature of his visit.
Stella shook her head, a mixture of disbelief and amusement playing on her lips as she regarded Theo. A subtle smile played on her lips, masking the underlying tension. “You really have the nerve to say that,” she said, her voice laced with a touch of playful exasperation, yet her eyes held a serious undercurrent.
Theo, unfazed by her reaction, leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. “I’m still your mate,” he stated, his tone firm, his words carrying a weight of unspoken meaning.
Stella nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in his statement, even as a wave of apprehension washed over her. “If you’re not going to order anything, you’re free to leave,” She said, her voice regaining its professional composure, her tone polite yet firm. She turned her back on him, attempting to regain her focus on the tasks at hand.
But Theo, seemingly unperturbed by her dismissal, stood up from his seat, his voice low and ominous. “You should say goodbye to him,” he said, his words cryptic and unsettling, “because starting tomorrow, he won’t be seeing the sun anymore.”
Stella’s composure faltered. “Who are you talking about?” she asked, her voice sharp with concern, her eyes searching for answers.
Theo, however, simply shook his head, offering no further explanation. “See you soon,” he said, his voice a casual farewell that belied the gravity of his cryptic warning. He waved a dismissive hand before departing, leaving Stella to grapple with the unsettling implications of his words.
Unable to shake off the unease his words had caused, Stella found herself unable to concentrate on her work. She decided to leave early, the weight of his warning pressing heavily on her mind. She drove to the mansion, the familiar gates opening to allow her entry.
The usual greetings from the staff were barely registered as she hurried inside, her mind racing with worry.
“Where’s Brandon?” she asked one of the maids, her voice urgent, her eyes scanning the grand hallway.
The maid’s response was immediate and disquieting. “He’s not here, ma’am,” she replied, her tone apologetic yet firm.
Stella’s heart sank. She fumbled for her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she dialed Brandon’s number. The call went unanswered.
With a growing sense of panic, she dialed Tyros’ number instead.
“Stella!” Tyros answered immediately, his voice familiar and reassuring.
“Are you with Brandon?” Stella asked, her voice strained, her anxiety palpable.
“Nah, I’m in the office,” Tyros replied, his words confirming her worst fears.
A wave of panic washed over Stella. She felt a cold dread creeping into her heart. “Okay,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, “message me if you reach Brandon. Please ask him where I can find them.” She ended the call, the unanswered questions and the unsettling warning from Theo swirling in her mind, leaving her feeling helpless and increasingly terrified.
Stella retreated to her car, the weight of her unanswered questions pressing down on her. She pulled away from the mansion, the imposing structure shrinking in her rearview mirror as she focused on the drive back to their house, her mind consumed by the need to reach Brandon.
The familiar route felt alien, each passing moment stretching into an eternity.
“Come on, answer my call,” she murmured, her voice barely audible above the hum of the engine and the rhythmic beat of the wipers against the windshield.
Just as despair began to set in, a familiar voice cut through the silence, startling her.
“Stella?” Brandon’s voice, laced with a hint of concern, was a lifeline in the swirling vortex of her anxiety.
“Where are you?” she demanded, her voice sharp with urgency.
The relief of hearing his voice was immediate, yet the underlying tension remained.
“Are you driving right now?” Brandon’s question was unexpected, his tone laced with a sudden note of alarm.
The sound of a distant siren, faint but unmistakable, had reached his ears through the phone.
“Yes!” she replied, her voice tight with a combination of anxiety and frustration. “Send me your location.” She ended the call, her hands gripping the steering wheel, her knuckles white.
Stella pulled her car over to the side of the road, the sudden halt a jarring interruption to the frantic rhythm of her drive. She waited, her eyes glued to her phone, her heart pounding in her chest, the silence punctuated only by the distant wail of sirens.
Finally, Brandon’s message arrived, a simple text containing a location and a brief explanation. With a surge of renewed determination, she started her car, the engine roaring to life like a desperate plea. She navigated using the map app, her eyes darting between the screen and the road, her mind racing to make sense of the situation.
As she arrived at the destination, a vast expanse of open field stretched before her, the scene far removed from the manicured lawns and stately homes she was accustomed to.
Brandon stood in the middle of the field, his face beaming, a baseball bat resting casually in his hand.
Bryce, his face alight with excitement, was running towards her.
“What are you doing here?” Stella asked, her voice a mixture of confusion and concern, the question hanging in the air amidst the sounds of children’s laughter and the distant crack of a bat hitting a ball.
Brandon, his smile widening, explained the situation. “We’re playing baseball,” he said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “We needed a big space.”
Before Stella could fully process the explanation, Bryce was upon her, his small arms wrapping around her legs in a tight hug. “Mommy!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with unrestrained joy, his words a balm to her frayed nerves.
The unexpected scene, though initially puzzling, was ultimately a welcome relief, the tension of the past hours melting away in the warmth of her son’s embrace.
Stella knelt beside Bryce, her gaze searching his face for any lingering signs of distress. “Are you okay, honey?” she asked, her voice soft and gentle, her touch light as she brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead.
Bryce, his face radiating pure joy, nodded enthusiastically. “I’m good at pitching, Mommy!” he announced, his voice brimming with pride, his small body bouncing with unrestrained energy.
Stella smiled, her heart swelling with affection. “That’s great, sweetie,” she replied, her voice warm and approving. “But Mommy needs to talk to Uncle Brandon for a minute.” She glanced around the expansive field, her gaze settling on Brandon, who was still engaged in the baseball game.
“Can you stay in the car for a bit?” she asked Bryce, her tone gentle yet firm.
Bryce nodded readily, his attention already shifting back to the game.
Stella led him towards her car, her steps measured, her mind already preoccupied with the conversation she needed to have with Brandon. She opened the car door, helping Bryce settle comfortably inside before closing the door gently.
Turning to Brandon, who was now approaching, she beckoned him closer.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and concern, his eyes questioning.
Stella wasted no time in conveying the reason for her summons. “I saw Theo at the cafe earlier,” she said, her voice low and serious, her words carrying the weight of her apprehension.
Brandon shook his head, his expression shifting from casual to concerned. “What did he do to you?” he asked, his voice laced with alarm, his concern evident in his eyes.
Stella paused, choosing her words carefully. “He didn’t do anything to me, but he said something,” she replied, her gaze fixed on Brandon’s face, her tone conveying the gravity of the situation.
Brandon waited patiently, his attention fully focused on her, his body language conveying his unwavering support.
“He gave me a warning,” Stella continued, her voice barely above a whisper, “and I think he was talking about you. Be careful,” she urged, her words a plea laced with worry.
A wave of warmth washed over Brandon as he realized the depth of Stella’s concern. He felt a surge of affection, her worry a testament to the strength of their bond. “He can’t lay a finger on me,” he said, his voice confident, yet a hint of underlying tension remained.
Stella nodded, a silent acknowledgment of his strength, yet the lingering unease remained, a shadow cast by Theo’s cryptic warning.
“He’ll try to attack you tonight,” Stella stated, her voice low and urgent, her words carrying the weight of her apprehension.
Brandon absorbed the information, the gravity of the threat sinking in. He felt a surge of adrenaline, yet his focus remained sharp, his mind already strategizing. “Thank you for telling me,” he replied, his voice calm and controlled, his tone betraying none of the inner turmoil the warning had ignited. He stepped closer to Stella, his presence a silent reassurance, his proximity a comforting shield against the looming danger.
“We’re going now,” Stella announced, her tone brisk and decisive, her focus shifting from the impending threat to the immediate need for action. “Thank you for taking care of my son,” she said, her voice laced with gratitude, her words a heartfelt expression of appreciation. “I’ll wire you the money,” she added, her tone businesslike, the financial transaction a mere detail in the face of the looming danger. She turned her back, her steps already leading her towards her car, her mind racing to protect her son.
Stella slid into the driver’s seat, casting one last glance at Brandon before checking on Bryce in the back seat. “Buckle your seatbelt, honey,” she instructed, her voice gentle yet firm, her eyes conveying the urgency of the situation.
Bryce immediately complied, his small hands deftly fastening the strap.
Stella started the engine, the car’s roar a counterpoint to the quiet intensity of the moment. She looked at Brandon one last time, her gaze conveying a silent promise of safety and protection.
“Are we going now, Mommy?” Bryce asked, his voice innocent and unaware of the underlying tension.
Stella nodded, her expression serious, her voice laced with a hint of urgency. “We need to go home as fast as we can,” she replied, her words a testament to her unwavering determination to protect her son. She pulled away from the field, leaving Brandon standing alone, the weight of Stella’s warning settling heavily upon him.
As they pulled into the garage, the familiar setting offering little comfort, Stella was met by her father, Elder Remus, his presence a mixture of concern and curiosity.
“You’re in a hurry,” he observed, his voice laced with a hint of questioning.
Stella, her breath catching in her throat, offered a brief explanation. “We’re just going to stay at Daisha’s house for a while,” she said, her words carefully chosen, her tone evasive yet firm.
Elder Remus, however, was not easily satisfied. “But why?” he pressed, his concern evident in his voice.
Stella, her eyes fixed on her son, offered a simple, yet powerful explanation. “I need to protect my son,” she said, her voice unwavering, her hand firmly clasped in Bryce’s, the gesture a testament to her unwavering determination to ensure his safety.